


Consumed

by BreakfastTea



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Sick Fic, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Mac wakes up alone in an abandoned mall, unable to remember why he's there. He knows he's on a mission, but what for? And why does he feel so hungover?However, that's not even the worst of his problems, because it turns out breathing in pure nitrogen comes with some longer term effects. Because whatever's wrong with him, it's not as simple as a cold.Why hadn't he just taken a sick day? Why had he felt the need to prove he was okay? Because now he's lost, alone, sick and being hunted.(Set post 1x07)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to my 100th AO3 fic! :D
> 
> One of the joys of having marathoned my way through the entirety of this show is now I wanna write tags for episodes a lot of you would've seen years ago. Hope you don't mind! But after I saw 1x07, I was just "okay, that's gonna have lasting consequences..." And so I wrote this. 
> 
> Warning: This is a sick fic, but it is *not* a Covid fic. Maybe skip this if it's too close to home.
> 
> Oh, and there's more swearing in this than the show has. Truth is, I'm British and our TV swears constantly. I'll never be used to how non-sweary American TV is :P

If he was being totally honest, which he was, y’know, _now_ , Mac knew he shouldn’t be on this mission.

…whatever _this mission_ was. He couldn’t really remember right now. He knew where he was. It was the why that escaped him.

He should’ve been at home, in bed, probably dosed up on meds, and maybe even asleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what was happening. It _should,_ but it wasn’t. Because he’d come to, alone, in a rain-soaked, abandoned mall somewhere in Ohio of all places on Earth with no memory of when or why he’d passed out. And he felt bad. Really bad. Hungover bad. Head pounding, guts churning bad. And twitchy. Why did he feel so twitchy?

And all of that was the least of his worries.

No, the real worry was the cough, the thing he’d convinced himself was just a cold back in LA. Except he hadn’t. Convinced himself that is. No, that had been a whole lotta denial. He didn’t have the right symptoms for a cold. The horrible breathless feeling of never getting enough air reminded him way, way too much of El Noche. He just didn’t want to admit it to himself, and he definitely hadn’t told the others. So he was… here? On a mission? That felt right… he just couldn’t get his memory to cough up (ha _ha_ ) the particulars of said mission.

He’d always known the truth about how bad he felt. No cold ever made him feel this sick. And based on what he was coughing up now? It was a chest infection at best. Bronchitis at not so best. Pneumonia at absolute worst. Whatever it was, he was sick.

And lost.

And alone.

And really, really cold. Fall was passing into winter. He should probably be glad it was raining and not snowing.

Lightning flashed through the shattered skylight looming above him, dragging him back to the moment. He was in a large atrium, surrounded by benches, dead escalators and elevators, a clock that was right twice a day, and three wide corridors leading back into the depths of the mall. He kept staring at the shattered skylight above, rain peppering him. He didn’t _think_ he’d fallen through that. No. Just looking at it told him no human being would be able to survive a fall from that height. He’d gotten here some other way. Some way that he would remember any minute now.

…Now.

…Now?

Nothing. No memories. Just a blank space. They were there, skittering out of reach, disappearing into the heavy fog clinging to his thoughts. He ran his hands over his face. He felt exhausted, the way he did after a marathon or a particularly intense build. Headachy. Strung out. Was this really just sickness?

White lightning lit up the sky. A memory flashed through him. A… lab?

A fresh onslaught of coughing led Mac to roll onto his side and curl up. Ow, ow, ow. Dammit, he had been stupid. He knew better than to take risks. He knew he’d been sick, and yet he’d covered his symptoms with extra strength Tylenol. And for what? To prove he was _fine_ after the whole ordeal in Mexico? That after being given oxygen to dislodge the nitrogen, followed by monitoring and a week’s medical leave, he was ready to be back out in the field, never mind the doctor’s warning that he’d be more susceptible to colds and chest infections for at least a month?

He still had nightmares. He lurched out of nightmares more than once since Jack had rescued him. That feeling of needing to breathe but not being able to get enough air hadn’t left him. He hadn’t forgotten the feeling of his body convulsing as he drowned on dry land. Sometimes those nightmares drove him out of bed and out for a run. Four days ago, he went for a run in one of LA’s rare rainstorms. He remembered the unexpected strain in his lungs even then. The next day, he started feeling wrong. The day after that, he felt really sick. And instead of doing the _smart_ thing and extended his medical leave, he’d decided to go to work.

For a genius, he could be a real dumbass sometimes.

“Idiot,” Mac muttered to himself. His chest ached, his head pounded, and he could feel the fever despite the rain soaking through his shirt and pants. He coughed again, wincing at the taste and the horrific feeling of things shifting in his lungs.

He was gonna deserve every lecture Jack could throw at him for this stupidity.

Shit. Jack. Where was he?

Forcing himself upright, Mac staggered to a nearby bench. He collapsed onto it, chest tighter than it should be. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t…

He needed to calm down, steady his breathing, not panic…

_“Mac, just get out of there!”_

The memory faded as fast as it shot through his head. Slowly, Mac felt his breathing steady. His headache receded and he was able to think back on what had brought him out here.

A mission.

“I know that already,” he muttered to himself.

From Thornton. He remembered the jet. Remembered taking a nap on his favourite seat. She’d tasked them to…

Mac pressed his hands to his pounding head. Come _on._ He knew why he was in Ohio. He listened to the rain fall, to its rasp as it covered the old mall’s tiling. He had the vaguest memories of a lab… A lab full of…

“Drugs.”

That was it! Thornton wanted them to search for a group of drug dealers who seemed to have connections that went way, way above anything they should know. Up into law enforcement. Someone was leaking them intel from the highest levels, meaning the gang knew how to avoid the police and how to keep making eye-watering amounts of money. More importantly, addicts weren’t getting the help they desperately needed.

It was all coming back to him now. Jack and Mac had found their lab. Here. Tucked away in the abandoned mall. They’d left Riley in their van parked up outside, tracing the intel leak. Their plan had been to put the lab out of order, and hunt down the higher ups in the gang to find out where they got their intel from.

Mac’s memory gave out on him again, his head giving a dull thud. They had found the lab, right? He looked down at himself, saw burn marks peppering his clothes. Yeah, he’d made something go kaboom.

But then what?

He reached up, searching for a head wound. Nothing. He was clear.

So, what then? He was just…

…sick?

_“…feeling really focused right now and…”_

He tried not to dwell on what could be making him so disconnected from reality. Sick he could work with. Sick meant no head injuries. Sick meant a fever and a fever meant he’d probably done something stupid through an inability to think clearly.

…except that whole honesty thing kept prodding at him, telling him this was more than sick.

Whatever it was, it’d have to wait. He checked comms, but they were definitely down. He patted himself down for his phone, only to find it gone. Had he used it in a build? Why? He laughed. That’s what Jack’s phone was for.

He rubbed his head. Where was Jack? Where were the drug dealers? And why were his thoughts so slippery?

“Got a bad feeling about this.”

Answers weren’t exactly forthcoming. That left just one course of action; get the hell out of this empty mall and find someplace safe. Riley! Riley had to still be outside. If he made it to her, she could help him figure out where Jack was.

Feeling slightly less dizzy, Mac moved. He left the atrium, smashed glass crunching underfoot. Deserted shops surrounded him. Not a single one had a solid pane of glass. People had gone through here and vandalized the place, smashing everything breakable and tagging anything else. It was a weird mixture of destruction and untouched preservation. The outer shell of the building was surprisingly stable. It was everything inside that was wrecked. Mac tried to remember the name of the mall, but the only detail that sprung readily to mind was the fact that this place had closed in 1999. It hadn’t even made it out of the twentieth century alive. Probably why the design was so bubblegum retro, with white tiles broken up by pink and blue diamond patterns. He spotted huge planters too, some still bursting with uncontrolled life while others had withered and died. Old shop facades still clung on in the dimness, many of them for dead businesses. The thunder and lightning racing around outside gave brief flashes of life to the old place. No wonder the dealer had set up in here. It was perfect. No one was going to come poking around in the depths of the dead mall.

Except Mac.

And Jack, wherever he was.

Mac’s nose itched. He wiped it. His hand came back bloody.

Something awoke in his memory.

A gunshot. Glass smashing. Another gunshot. Powder. Lots of powder. In the air. The air he’d breathed.

_“Don’t come in here, Jack!”_

_“Whoa, Mac! Tell me you didn’t breathe that in!”_

_“Uh…”_

Had he really…?

The nosebleed worsened.

…He had, hadn’t he?

He’d done something _really_ stupid. On top of going on a mission while sick.

“Shit,” he breathed.

The memory came in hazy flashes, the details lost but the feelings and sensations right there. In the lab. The drug lab, hidden in the depths of the abandoned mall. Right, he remembered more now. They’d been caught in the lab. Gunfire. The bullets hit something and he’d breathed it in. The foul, bitter taste rushed over his memory like it was still on his tongue. He recalled pulling his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. Too little, too late. The drug kicked in. A pep-up. A very powerful one. Amphetamine, most likely, and a lot of it. It exploded inside him, wiping out his exhaustion, crushing his sickness. It was probably why he was able to get back to his feet right now, even though the high had definitely worn off. Scientifically speaking, amphetamines were a stimulant, one the US Army had gladly pumped into its soldiers way back in the day. Some medications still used it today. So, _scientifically speaking_ , he’d probably gotten a good boost from the drugs he’d accidentally inhaled. A boost that had temporarily allowed him to overcome whatever else was wrong with him.

Another memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. He remembered finding something funny. Really funny. He had no idea what it was.

“ _Man, I am so high right now. High and in a lab. That’s a bad combination!”_

“ _Fine, Mac, ride that high and figure out how to stop these damn dealers from making more of that shit.”_

_“You know, Jack, I have a great idea and I’m feeling super focused right now so I’m totally gonna blow this up.”_

_“Blow it up?”_

_“Yeah! See, there’s a Bunsen burner over there and a lot of the substances in here will explode just right. If I rig up an old school timer, it’s gonna be so sweet, and then the drugs will –”_

_“Less chat, more boom, amigo! Just make sure you get out first though so you don’t go boom with it.”_

_“It’s coming together, look! I’m hyperfocused right now. My thoughts are coming so fast. It’s amazing, Jack. I can actually keep up with myself!”_

_“Uh, on this side it sounds kinda manic. And you’re talking so fast I can’t keep up. Besides, you can always keep up with yourself.”_

_“No, not always. This is amazing! It’s also really, really bad because coming down is gonna be the actual worst, but right now, look! This bomb’s coming together so nicely.”_

_“Just don’t blow yourself up too soon, okay? And don’t get a taste for drugs.”_

_“Sure, sure. Just be ready to go, Jack. It’s gonna explode!”_

_“Could you maybe sound a little less gleeful? You’re freaking me out.”_

Had he blown himself up? That seemed unlikely. Explained why his comms were out. But he’d definitely separated himself from Jack. And he definitely wasn’t feeling the effects of the amphetamines anymore. The high definitely wasn’t worth the comedown. He felt horrendous.

And he was alone.

_And_ he couldn’t really remember the bomb he absolutely must’ve set off in that lab.

“Jack’s gonna kill me,” Mac muttered to himself.

Because on top of whatever was wrong in his lungs, he was coming down from an accidental drugging. Definitely not his best day ever. His next random drug test at work would involve so much extra paperwork.

He staggered onwards, one hand pinching his bleeding nose, the other held to his aching, congested chest. He walked past shops that hadn’t seen customers in over a decade, and brands that had died out years ago. He moved past an ancient Borders. Man, when had he last gone into a Borders bookstore?

He found an old store directory in the middle of an atrium. Time had worn away the details. Crap. No way to use that to figure out an escape. He couldn’t figure out where he was in the mall or how to get back to where they’d come in. His head was too fuzzy, and when another set of coughs broke free, he collapsed against the store directory. The taste of blood coated his tongue. He spat out a thick, glistening globule. Was that from the nosebleed or from something deeper?

He was a mess.

What else did he remember? They’d come in through the north of the building by an old movie theater. Maybe there would be signs to get him back there? He looked up and saw one hanging off a walkway going between the two sides of the upper level. Apparently, there was a food court ahead. Great! Food courts always let out into the parking lot. Maybe he’d just get out another way.

Except two minutes and a lot of coughing later, Mac discovered this food court’s parking lot exit was completely sealed. Bricked off sealed. Not good.

Exhausted, Mac fought the urge to sit back down. Next plan. Jack. He had to find Jack. And the theater exit. Probably in that order. He leaned against the unexpected brick wall, trying to remember the old building’s layout. The lab hadn’t been too far from the theater, tucked away in what had once been a Bath and Bodyworks’ storeroom.

“ _Who turns a Bath and Bodyworks into a drug lab?”_

_Jack’s voice on the other side of the storeroom door filtered through the complex equations Mac was calculating in his head. “Uh, these guys, I guess.”_

_“You okay in there?”_

_“Yeah. Just make sure no one else tries shooting us, okay?”_

_“You got it.”_

Except now Mac had no idea where that store was, or how far from it he’d gone. He couldn’t remember anything between the lab and waking up in the atrium.

Mac didn’t get a chance to think about it. He heard something. Someone. Their feet crunched over the broken glass. Mac ducked behind what had once been a Subway. He looked around for something, anything, he could use to defend himself if he needed to, but the place had been cleared out a very long time ago.

If this wasn’t Jack, Mac would have to run. He was in no state to fight. He could already feel another cough building in his chest.

Please be Jack. Please, please, please…

Mac peeked out over the top of the old Subway serving area. An armed woman crept by, tufts of purple hair sticking out from under her black beanie.

Mac sank back, heart plummeting. Not good.

He crept deeper into the Subway, moving through the dilapidated kitchen area. At the back, he found a door into the staff only corridors leading all around the mall. He slid through, pressing his hands to his face to muffle the worst of the coughing.

Except he didn’t muffle it enough.

And footsteps came running.

“I know you’re in here!” the woman shouted. “Asshole! You’re gonna pay for this!”

Mac ran as best he could, opening a doorway in the dark hallway. His lungs screamed at him for air. Black spots bloomed across his vision. He fell against a wall, and used it to keep himself moving. The only light came from a doorway at the far end leading back out into shop floor side of the mall. Rather than go for that, he aimed for a door to his left. Opening it, he found himself in an old, dusty office. They’d left the desks and chairs, and even an old tannoy system. Not that any of it was any use to him right now. He slid in, closing the door. It was completely pitch black. He listened to the sound of the woman moving outside. He breathed carefully; the dust irritated his chest. If he coughed now, she’d shoot him dead.

The footsteps move past the office door. Mac strained his ears, waiting for the sound of the door at the far end.

He didn’t hear it.

He heard her coming back.

He heard another door opening.

And close.

“You’re not leaving here alive,” she called out. “I know you’re here somewhere. How about you make this quick for both of us and just get out here?”

Mac’s heartbeat crept up a notch. His body shifted, hand reaching for the door.

Except the door opened towards him. His fried brain stuttered for a few seconds. How the hell…?

Flashlight roamed the dead office.

The woman was already in the room.

Fight or flight?

Mac moved.

Fight.

He grabbed the end of her rifle and pulled. She staggered off balance. He tore the weapon out of her grip, swung it around and knocked her out with a single blow to the head. Grabbing her flashlight, he dismantled the rifle on his way out of the room.

He stepped back into the mall’s rainy light. The transition left him dizzy. His chest rumbled with another series of wet, barking coughs. He staggered against a wall, waiting for them to pass. He fell to his knees, spasming lungs trying to get air even as they coughed up unspeakable nastiness. Blood and mucus splattered over the floor, and not all of it came out of his still bleeding nose. Fear lodged itself in his chest. This was bad. This was really bad. By the time he regained control of his breathing, he was light-headed and breathless. He forced himself to move, knowing he needed to find his way back out of the mall. He couldn’t keep wandering around this old place, hoping to find Jack. Anyway, Jack was a smart guy. He’d figure it out.

Walking (staggering?) through the mall, Mac couldn’t help marvel at the strangeness of it. Once, people would’ve come here in droves. The place would’ve been alive with voices, footsteps and music. Now, the cavernous mall stood deserted and derelict, slowly succumbing to the ravages of vandals, time and nature. Rain found its way through shattered skylights. Lightning raced across the sky, thunder chasing close behind. The sound of it was incredible in the deserted mall, banging and crashing in the echoing shell.

Mac kept walking, his pace slower than usual. Too fast, and he felt like he’d pass out from lack of oxygen. His mouth tasted gross, an unholy combination of dust, blood, vomit and phlegm. He found himself staring at the old shops. Some had old posters promoting long-forgotten brands and clothes. He went past an old video store and it had faded posters for _The Matrix_ clinging to the walls. Mac smiled. This place was a real time capsule.

Something crunched behind him.

Another blast of lightning and explosion of thunder lit up the sky.

Mac turned. Too slow. Too late.

He saw a fist.

Felt it connect.

And the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for all the love on this fic! 
> 
> I'm still celebrating my 100 fics here on AO3, so if there's anything you wanna know about my writing, or if you wanna kick some ideas around, check out [this post](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/post/624466870377005056/ask-away) on my Tumblr :D

Jack swore he would never, ever, set foot in another mall after his. Abandoned or not, it was _not_ happening. Why did they build these places like goddamn labyrinths? Why did anyone think that was a good idea? He kept getting turned around. He’d memorized the layout, sure, but it didn’t help when every abandoned shop looked exactly the same. And now Mac was missing in this nightmare building.

Jack knew Mac wasn’t right. He was spacey and quiet during the early morning briefing. He’d picked up a paperclip and simply twirled it in his fingers. He’d never actually shaped it into anything. Jack’s bad feeling hadn’t abated during the flight to Ohio either. Mac’s whole _it’s just a cold_ spiel sounded and felt wrong. It was obvious how uncomfortable he was. But this was supposed to be an easy mission, so Jack let that bullshit fly.

Lesson learned. Never again would he allow Mac anywhere near a mission if he so much as _sneezed_. He needed more time to recover from the whole El Noche mess. Instead, they were here, separated after a simple mission to learn how a drugs gang knew so much turned into this mess.

They’d found the drug lab tucked away in the huge stockroom of a very defunct Bath and Bodyworks. Mac had gone into the lab, while Jack poked around the staff room. That was where he’d found stacks of cash and a laptop. He swiped the device, ready to deliver to Riley.

And that was about the time the shouting hit the air.

Jack ran back to the lab, only to find the hallway stuffed with armed drug dealers. One of them managed to shoot through the open doorway of the lab. His bullet missed Mac, hitting a package of white powder instead. Mac took in a lungful. Nearly coughed it all right back out again, but the damage was done. Jack wanted to run in to help him, but he was too busy not getting killed.

By the time Jack had cleared out the rest of the goons, he realized Mac had closed and blocked the lab’s door, Jack couldn’t get in. Jack watched him through the window into the stock room.

“Mac, what are you doing?”

“Making a bomb. You might wanna get back.”

He’d sounded weird. Manic. Like he’d ingested all the espresso known to mankind.

“What the hell are those drugs?” Jack wanted to know.

“My guess would be some kinda amphetamine because I’m so focused right now it’s a terrifying and all kinds of awesome.” He’d had to pause for breath before ranting again. “There’s an emergency exit in here.” He coughed. “I’m gonna take that when this is ready. You should get clear now. I promise I can get out.”

He coughed again, harder, the sound loud and wet. Jack winced then and he winced at the memory of it. The next thing he saw, Mac had lit a fuse. “Go!”

Jack only ran after he was sure Mac went out the back like he promised.

And now, Jack had no idea where Mac had gone. Because he wasn’t in the staff-only corridors behind the stores, and he hadn’t come around to the public side of the mall either. Or if he had, he hadn’t headed back to their entry point. Jack couldn’t find a trail to follow either, which had to be a good thing because it meant Mac wasn’t bleeding out anywhere. However, he was sick and had unwittingly inhaled drugs. Jack needed to find him, fast.

Weapon still out and ready, eyes roaming the dark mall, Jack couldn’t help a sigh. “Never make these things easy for me, do you?” Talking to himself helped keep the panic at bay.

Because Mac had vanished. The problem was, the corridor he’d escaped into led to two separate sections of the mall. Jack had taken the western side, figuring it would’ve been on Mac’s right when he left the store and instinct would’ve told him to follow his dominant side.

Angus MacGyver had, of course, done the total opposite.

“I swear I’m gonna put a bell on you when I find you,” Jack muttered.

Backtracking after ten minutes spent searching the sprawling west wing of the old mall, Jack went back past the burning drug lab. Dammit, he needed to find Mac before the whole damn place went up. Smoke leaked from the old storefront, filling the air. It wasn’t too bad yet, and enough of the mall’s skylights were shattered to keep rain and fresh air flowing in, but if this whole deserted building went up, they were in serious trouble. It was starting to get dark outside too, and that’d only make getting out harder. They only had one escape route right now, and that was through the movie theater in the north wing.

“Dammit, Mac, couldn’t you have just stayed in one place ‘til I found you?”

He kept walking, the sound of the storm overhead crashing and booming, drowning out the crackle of the fire steadily growing behind him. He pulled out his phone for the one hundredth time, adding a one hundredth missed call to Mac’s. He called Riley too, checking in to see if she’d been in contact with Mac.

“Is something on fire in there?” Riley asked.

“Yeah, the drug lab.”

“Mac’s handy work?”

Jack laughed. “Yes it was.”

“Need me to get the fire department over here?”

“Not until I’ve found Mac,” Jack said.

“Okay, hurry,” Riley said. “Because he did not look well earlier.”

“You noticed too?”

“He’s normally pale, even for a white guy, but he was whiter than snow.”

“We should’ve stopped him from coming,” Jack said.

Riley snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“When I find him, we’re taking him to the nearest doctor,” Jack said.

“I’ll find us an urgent care center,” Riley said.

“Maybe look up an ER too. Just in case.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Find him,” Riley ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said, ending the call. He stopped for a moment. The best thing to do would be to head back to the movie theater. Mac would surely be making his own way there. He was a smart guy, and that would be the smartest move. They could rendezvous and get the hell out together.

First though, seeing as he was already there, Jack approached the derelict food court.

He heard a voice coming his way.

“You’ve got him?”

It was a woman. Jack paused, expecting to hear another voice. Instead, a few moments later, the woman spoke again.

“Yeah, the bastard knocked me out so you better keep hold of him until I get to you.”

A woman with purple hair stomped into view. She had blood on her face and she was unsteady on her feet. She didn’t notice Jack, who stood behind her, watching her yelling into a radio.

“Where are you?” she demanded.

Thunder crashed overhead, drowning out the response from the radio.

“Say that again!” she demanded. “Fucking storm, messing with everything.”

“Heading for the movie theater!” came the tinny response.

Perfect. They were doing half of Jack’s job for him.

“Alright. I wanna find out everything he knows. The boss’ll wanna know too, so don’t kill him. Just make sure he starts talking.”

Anger and terror threatened to choke Jack. Instinct kicked in, and in five big steps, he closed the distance between himself and the woman. The pouring indoor rain and thunderous storm masked the sound of his footsteps over the shattered glass. He grabbed the woman, pinning her right arm behind her just so that if she moved even slightly, the pain would be overwhelming. He tore the radio out of her hand and tossed it away.

“If you or your people have done anything to hurt my friend, you ain’t gonna live long enough to regret it,” Jack hissed.

“Let go of me!” the woman snarled. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“You’re damn right I have no idea. Because you’re just some lowlife drug dealing scum. You ain’t special.”

“I’m warning you –”

Fuck this. He didn’t have time for her. He cold-cocked her, leaving her unconscious for the second time, only this time Jack had a few zip ties going spare. He cuffed her, arms stacked behind her, ankles bound together, and left her where she was. They were far enough away from the fire that she wasn’t at immediate risk.

He raced back through the mall, finally seeing abandoned storefronts he recognized from before. And then, up ahead, the movie theater.

And two massive men, dragging Mac’s unconscious form between them. They held a leg each, apparently not caring that they were dragging an unconscious man across a sea of shattered glass. They were taking him into the abandoned theater. Jack couldn’t risk shooting them yet; not with Mac between them, and not when he could only take one out at a time. He needed a distraction, fast.

“Hey! Assholes!”

Both men looked up. Saw Jack.

Dropped Mac.

Went for their guns.

Jack grinned. It was a basic plan, but it worked to perfection. Because two bullets later, he had two dead dealers.

The grin didn’t last long. He rushed over to Mac, finding his friend unconscious. “Mac?” Jack shook him, hoping maybe he’d come around.

Nothing. Mac’s face was covered in blood. Some of it came from his nose, the rest his mouth. Mac’s chest crackled with every uneven breath he took. Jack felt sick with nerves. Not good. Seriously not good. Mac also had a nasty bruise on his face, the shape of a fist unmistakable.

At least the bastard that’d done that wouldn’t ever hurt another person.

Jack grabbed Mac, throwing him over his shoulder. “Sorry, man. But we gotta move.”

Mac’s fever made itself known. The heat radiated off his body, bleeding through Jack’s clothes. Jack knew he needed medical attention. Fast. They’d be skipping urgent care and going straight to the closest ER.

“You’re safe now, I promise,” Jack told him. “We’re gonna get you well.”

Mac didn’t stir.

They made it back out of the abandoned mall without encountering any other dealers. Jack spotted the van. He saw Riley sliding the back door open. She got out the way so Jack could settle Mac on the floor. “Stay with him,” he ordered her. Then, he pulled a laptop out of his waistband. “And when you get a minute, go through that. Hopefully it’ll have the intel we need.”

Taking the laptop, Riley climbed back into the van, crouching by Mac’s side. “He’s really sick, Jack. I don’t even need to touch him to tell he’s burning up.” But she did place her hand against his head, brushing sweaty, bloodstained hair out his face. “Shit, this is bad. This is really bad.”

“I know. We’re going to an ER. Tell Patty. She can set something up for us.”

Riley grabbed her phone. “I’m on it.”

Jack climbed in, slammed the sliding door shut, and threw himself into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, ready to go. “This might get bumpy.”

“Just go. Fast. I’ll get us a location.” Phone pressed to her ear, Riley looked down at Mac. He needed help, now.

The call connected. “Thornton.”

Riley didn’t waste a second. “We need a hospital,” she said. “It’s Mac. He’s hurt and he’s sick.” She felt his pulse thundering against her fingers where she pressed them to his wrist. That couldn’t be good. And what was with the weird white powder still clinging onto… “Crap. I think he’s been drugged too.”

“He was,” Jack called from up front. Riley put her phone on speaker so Thornton could hear. “Stray bullet hit a package. He would’ve had a huge dose. He said it was an amphetamine.”

“I will find you somewhere safe to take him,” Thornton replied. “Have you secured the name of the person leaking intel to the dealers?”

“Not yet, but Jack’s given me a laptop that’s hopefully gonna have what we need,” Riley said.

“Oh, yeah, and you might wanna get the fire department over to that abandoned mall. Local law enforcement too. I left one alive for ‘em,” Jack said.

“Fire department?” Thornton asked.

“Yeah. Mac created a bomb while he was high and blew the lab up. I guess he figured that was the best way to get rid of the drugs.”

Thornton didn’t say anything. Nerves fluttered in Riley’s stomach. Would Mac get in trouble for the drugs?

“I know you might not believe me, but that might be the least of our issues,” Jack said. “He was sick before we started.”

“Sounds like MacGyver needs another lesson on fitness for duty,” Thornton said.

“Just get us a doctor. A good one,” Jack said, not caring if he sounded harsh and rude. Mac needed help, and he needed it soon.

“I’ll send Riley a location now,” Thornton said.

Thornton ended the call. Riley’s phone beeped a minute later with a text containing a location. “We’ve got a hospital,” she said. “Thornton says a Doctor Bevin will meet us at the ER entrance. Drive straight to it.” She carefully moved around Mac, activated Google Maps, and had it direct them to the hospital.

“Thanks,” Jack said, voice tense. “Keep an eye on him.”

Riley returned to Mac. She eased his head onto her lap, carding her hand through his sweaty hair. “Hang in there,” she said. “We’re getting you help.”

Mac didn’t answer. Riley hated how hard he had to fight for every breath. It sounded way too much like he was slowly suffocating.

Ten minutes later, Jack hit the brakes outside the hospital. Riley held Mac tight to stop him sliding across the van’s floor. Jack got out, and Riley heard him talking to someone. She gave Mac’s hand a squeeze. “We’re here,” she told him.

“Mmm.” Mac stirred. He coughed, the sound thick with congestion. “Riles?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Just stay still, okay? You’re safe. You’re just sick.” Really, really sick.

Riley waited for a response. She didn’t get one. Mac was already out again.

The door opened and Jack stood there with Doctor Bevin. She had her hands on a stretcher, her face serious, her eyes already taking in the sight of Mac.

“Come on,” she said. “We need to get him inside. Your boss gave me a brief overview.”

The three of them lifted Mac onto the stretcher. They rushed him into a quiet room just off from the main ER. A tall nurse, his nametag stating he was Nurse Abdel, waited in the room. He doubled up as a security guard, rounding Jack and Riley up and taking them to a waiting area. “Doctor Bevin will come back for you when she’s ready. Don’t worry, your friend is in good hands,” Nurse Abdel said. And with that, he hurried away again.

“It’s never good when nurses run,” Riley said.

“No,” Jack said. “It ain’t a good sign at all.”

Riley dropped into a seat. Jack stayed on his feet. She watched him for a moment, saw him run a hand over his face. “He’s gonna be okay,” she said, hoping she sounded less uncertain than she felt. “We got him here.”

“He shouldn’t even be on this mission,” Jack said. “He wasn’t recovered from Mexico. Not properly.”

“So, let’s agree that next time he’s sick, we lock him in his house so he can’t even think about coming into work.”

Jack finally took a seat. “I can do that.”

“I’m gonna grab the laptop out the van,” Riley said. “See what info we can get off it.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Jack stared at the door like he’d be able to summon Doctor Bevin through force of will. “I’m just gonna stay. Wait. You know, in case they come back.”

Riley chose not to say anything. Because it hadn’t even been five minutes yet, and she knew it would be a while before they heard anything.

* * *

Four hours and a lot of coffee later, not only had Riley found the name of the police officer feeding information to the drug gang based in the dead mall, she’d also found the name of their partner who was in just as deep in the FBI. She’d updated Thornton and let her handle everything else.

“Update me once you have news,” Thornton said before hanging up.

Jack, on the other hand, was about ready to start crawling up the walls. He’d never be any good at this whole waiting thing.

Which was why he nearly hugged Doctor Bevin when she entered.

“How is he?” Jack demanded.

“Jack,” Riley hissed. “Manners?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry. I’m just –”

“Worried,” Doctor Bevin said. She smiled. “I understand. The good news is your friend is resting. The bad news is he has double pneumonia. Chest x-ray confirmed that. It’s also not bacterial, so we can’t give him antibiotics. It’s more likely to be aspiration pneumonia.”

Jack and Riley shared a look. They knew exactly what had caused it. Jack ran a hand over his head. “Dammit, Mac,” he muttered.

“We’ve managed to stabilize the fever, but until the amphetamines are totally out of his system, we can’t give him anything else.”

“Is he in any danger from those?” Jack asked.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Doctor Bevin said. “He’s just got the hangover. On top of a concussion.”

Jack winced. He could only imagine.

“We’ve got him on supplementary oxygen because he’s struggling too much without it. He’ll be having breathing treatments as soon as it’s safe to so,” Doctor Bevin said. “He’s going to need rest. A lot of rest. When your boss called me, she wanted to know when he’d be ready for travel. The answer is not any time soon.”

Meaning they would need a safehouse. Jack made a mental note to call Thornton and request one soon.

“Can we sit with him?” Jack asked.

“You can. But keep it quiet. The longer he sleeps the better.”

Jack gave his best smile. “We will be the quietest. Quiet like… like… like a fish!”

Riley stared at him. “Like a fish, Jack?”

“What? Fish don’t make a sound right?”

Riley shook her head. “You sure you’re not the one with a concussion?”

“Phones on silent please,” Doctor Bevin said.

Jack and Riley followed orders.

She took them back to the room they’d left Mac in. He was there, hooked up to monitors, IVs and oxygen. He was sleeping, bed tilted at an angle to help him breathe. His rest didn’t look peaceful. His breathing was too rapid and shallow. He looked sick, skin ashen despite the flush of a fever. The bruising on his face didn’t help either. Jack stood at the end of the bed, taking in the reassuring beep of the monitor. Mac was alive. Sick and hurting, but alive.

Jack took a deep breath and parked himself in the chair at Mac’s bedside. Riley sat on the opposite side.

“You’ve got this room for as long as you need it,” Doctor Bevin said. “Your boss cleared it.”

“Yeah, she’s good like that,” Jack said. “Thanks, Doc. We’ll stay quiet.”

“Good. I’ll be back to check on you all later.”

Doctor Bevin headed out. Riley leaned back in her chair. “Any chance there’s a safehouse nearby?” she asked. “We’re not going home soon.”

“There will be by the time Patty’s finished,” Jack said. He pulled out his silenced phone and updated the boss with a text. And once that was done, he put the phone away and reached out for Mac’s slack hand. “There you go, buddy. You’re not alone.”

He watched Riley reach out and take Mac’s other hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last, very large, chapter will be up on Sunday :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand at last, we get to the final MAHOOSIVE chapter :D

Mac coughed himself awake. It sucked. It really, really sucked. Because he couldn’t stop, not even to breathe. Hands grabbed him, pulling him up before he could choke himself on everything he was coughing up.

“You’re okay,” said a familiar voice. “Better out than in.”

By the time he was done, Mac was exhausted. He slumped against his pillows, focusing on trying to get enough air in his lungs before he passed out. He forced his eyes open. Jack’s blurry face fuzzed into view.

“Hey buddy, welcome back,” Jack said. “You’ve been out for hours.”

“You okay?” Mac asked. He winced. His voice sounded like he’d thrown back a razor blade chaser. “Where’s Riley?” His eyes drooped.

“I’m fine. We’re both fine. Ri’s gone to find the doc. Think you can stay with me for a minute?”

Mac forced his eyes open. Jack was still there, wearing the concerned smile that always made an appearance when Mac was under medical care. Mac wanted to reassure him that he was okay, but he knew he wasn’t. He also couldn’t catch his breath enough to speak again. It felt like something had sat on his chest, something that wouldn’t get off. Things popped and bubbled in his lungs.

Why couldn’t he breathe right?

“Mac?” Great. Now Jack sounded as worried as he looked.

Reaching out, Mac grabbed Jack’s hand and squeezed.

Jack squeezed back. “I gotcha. I gotcha. You’re gonna be okay. Just keep breathing. I know it’s hard and you’re sick, but you just keep on breathing.”

Mac felt something pressing against his face, felt air pumping up his nose. He reached for it. Jack intercepted his hand. “You need that.”

Based on how hard he was already finding breathing, Mac didn’t argue. He could cope with a cannula.

Riley returned with Doctor Bevin and Nurse Abdel in tow. Jack made room for them. Riley joined him at the back of the room. Doctor Bevin made quick work of checking Mac over. Nurse Abdel even managed to draw blood without Mac feeling it. Probably because he was too hot, too uncomfortable, and too sore to care. Every breath was a battle he was painfully conscious of.

“I’m going to bring in a nebulizer treatment,” Doctor Bevin said. “Your system will be clear of everything else by now. It’ll help with your airways and make breathing a little easier. You’re not getting as much oxygen as I’d like. And if the bloodwork comes back clear, we’ll see about getting you some painkillers.”

That sounded so good. Anything to help. He was already exhausted.

Five minutes later, Doctor Bevin returned with a nebulizer machine attached to a face mask. She moved to place it over his mouth and nose. A jolt of panic surged through Mac. His hands reached up to push it away.

“No, no, you need that,” Doctor Bevin said.

Mac shook his head. “No masks,” he wheezed.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but right now it’s the best way to get this medicine into your lungs,” Doctor Bevin said.

“No,” Mac said. His windpipe closed to the straw. He could hardly get enough air to stay conscious.

“Doc,” Jack called. “Can you give us a second?”

Doctor Bevin stepped back. Jack stepped up. Mac stared at him. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t get enough air in.

“Listen to me,” Jack said. “I know you had a really, really terrible experience last time, but you need these meds. You’re sick and you’re gonna get sicker if we don’t do something to get your lungs clearer asap.”

Mac shook his head. “Can’t.”

“You’re in control, okay? You need to take it off, you can do it. You think I’d let anyone poison you that way again?”

Jack was right. Of course Jack was right. Mac couldn’t think clearly right now. He was hot, miserable, and thing seemed horribly out of his control.

“I’ll stay right here,” Jack said. “You ain’t gotta do this alone.”

Eyes closing, hot, feverish tears pressing against the lids, Mac nodded. When he was sure he could control himself, he opened his eyes and allowed Doctor Bevin to set up the treatment.

“Take deep breaths. The deeper it gets into your lungs, the more good it’ll do,” she said, sliding the mask over his mouth and nose. “And if you need to cough, don’t hold it in. Take the mask off and just get it out.” She smiled. “It won’t be pretty and it’ll taste nasty, but it’ll make you feel better. You need to get as much phlegm up as possible.”

That sounded gross. Necessary, but gross.

Jack was there. He reached out, clasping Mac’s hand in his own.

Half an hour, and a lot of coughing and vomiting later, Mac couldn’t agree with Doctor Bevin’s assertion that he’d feel better for the treatment. He felt completely rung out and spacey. He kept seeing things moving out the corners of his eyes, things he belatedly realised weren’t really there. He wasn’t sure if that was the medication or the fever.

Eventually, Doctor Bevin removed the nebulizer mask, replacing the nasal cannula. “We’re all done for now.”

“Good work, hoss,” Jack said. “You did it.”

Doctor Bevin placed a cold compress against Mac’s head. “This will help with the fever.”

Mac couldn’t find the air or the energy to spare to thank Doctor Bevin. He wanted to focus everything on not having another coughing fit. He was too tired and too sore for that right now.

“Get some more sleep,” she ordered.

For once, Mac was only too willing to follow orders. Hollowed out by sickness and exhaustion, he nodded. Sleep sounded amazing.

Doctor Bevin left. Mac’s eyes slid closed.

“You sleep as long as you need,” Jack said. “Me and Ri ain’t going nowhere.”

Mac didn’t need telling twice. He was out.

Returning to Mac’s bedside, Riley reached out to brush his sweaty bangs back. She sank back into her chair, expression troubled. Jack couldn’t find words of comfort for her right now. He had seen Mac hurt before, hell, he’d seen him sick too. But not like this. Not with something so serious. Watching the kid cope with a cold or food poisoning didn’t really compare to double pneumonia. And for him to deny treatment like that…

“I shoulda known something was wrong,” Jack said. “He ain’t been himself since the whole prison thing, and no one breathes in that much nitrogen and walks away unharmed.”

“Focus on what we can deal with,” Riley said. “He’s alive and, thanks to you, he’s getting the treatment he needs. You can give him a lecture later about taking sick days.”

“Now, let me tell you one thing about giving this guy a lecture,” Jack said. “It’s impossible.”

Riley snorted. “Please.”

“I’m serious! He gets this look on his face that makes me feel so bad I can’t even remember why I was mad. It ain’t fair!”

“Fine,” Riley said. “I’ll do it.”

Jack snorted. “You can try.”

“Watch me,” Riley said.

“Oh, believe me,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. “I intend to.”

* * *

Two days and multiple breathing treatments later, Mac was released from hospital into Jack and Riley’s care. Doctor Bevin gave strict instructions with regards to travel, instructions Mac was happy to follow. The thought of being on a plane right now, or, worse, _driving_ back to LA, was enough to leave him cold… which was really something seeing how he still had a fever. All he wanted was to get out of the hospital and into a bed that didn’t have wheels or handlebars. Even if that meant he had to leave hospital clad in pyjamas because he did not have the energy to spare on dressing.

By the time they made it to the car, Mac was breathless and seriously considering using the reliever inhaler he’d been prescribed. He resisted, and instead slid into the car’s backseat, stretching out as best he could.

“The safehouse ain’t far,” Jack said from the driver’s seat. “You wanna head straight there or stop off for some food?”

“Safehouse,” Mac said. He was already exhausted. Doctor Bevin had warned him it would be like this for a few days yet. He was nowhere near fully recovered yet. Just recovered enough to give back his hospital room. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack said. “Let’s get you to our temporary home.”

Resting his overly warm cheek against the cool window, Mac gave his thanks. He needed to be back in bed asap. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he still felt awful. His chest was too heavy, and as soon as he noticed how hard breathing was, it became impossible to not think about every single effortful breath he took.

Pneumonia sucked.

He really should’ve said no to the mission. If he had, if he’d given himself time, he wouldn’t be this sick.

And next time he did anything involving handling drugs, he’d take a mask and gloves. He still couldn’t believe he’d managed to suck in a ton of amphetamine. His memory of the mission was still piecemeal, but he definitely recalled the crystal-clear clarity. No wonder drugs were so addictive. The good feelings would quickly lead to addiction. He was lucky he hadn’t overdosed. Still, it’d be an interesting story to explain if he had a random drugs test at work any time soon.

Coughing, he closed his eyes as their new rental car left the hospital’s parking deck and hit the bright streets. No storms today. It was cold though. Jack had the car’s heating cranked up. Mac took slow, careful breaths, trying not to set off a proper round of coughs when Jack needed to focus on driving.

“You sure you don’t wanna spend another day in hospital?” Riley asked from the passenger seat.

“No thank you,” Mac said, cracking open one eye. “I’m good to go.”

He punctuated that sentence with a loud, barking cough. He rubbed his chest. Ow.

Riley sighed. “You’re never coming on a mission sick again,” she said. “Ever. If you try, I will hack your bank account and donate everything you have to a charity for sick puppies.”

He blinked at her. “Puppies?”

“Yeah. Sick puppies. Specifically.”

Jack snorted.

Mac got the feeling he’d missed something. He opened his other eye to stare at Riley, hoping she’d explain herself.

“Oh, wow, you’re actually doing it,” she said.

“I told ya,” Jack said.

“Doing what?” Mac asked.

“The whole ‘don’t be mad at me, I’m totally innocent’ puppy dog eye thing,” Riley said.

Sighing, Mac gave it up. He knew when he was defeated. “I’ll never come to work sick ever again,” he said.

Riley nodded. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Mac smiled.

“Now wait a minute!” Jack said. “How come you agree with her but any time I ask you to do something like taking care of yourself when you’re sick, I get the look and an argument?”

“The look?” Mac asked, blinking all innocent.

Jack stabbed a finger in his direction. “There! That look! That one right there!”

Mac turned to Riley. “I have a look?”

“You definitely have a look,” she said.

He settled back against his car seat, closing his eyes. “I do not have a look.”

“Still don’t explain why you argue with me and not her,” Jack grumbled.

“Guess Riley just has a better way with words,” Mac said. He tried not to wince. Even a short sentence like that left him breathless.

Pneumonia _sucked_.

The car fell quiet. Mac let himself drift between sleep and wakefulness. The car’s movement lulled him.

“Ugh, traffic,” Riley said, her voice drifting through Mac’s mind.

“Looks like we might be stuck here a little while,” Jack said.

Mac didn’t – couldn’t – open his eyes. They were as good as cemented shut.

What a nightmare image _that_ was.

“Think he’s asleep?” Riley asked, voice low.

“I hope so,” Jack said, voice equally quiet. “He needs rest or – ”

Their voices faded. Mac sank deeper, sleep draping over him. Dreams pulled on him, but the jerking motion of the car in heavy traffic kept him from really drifting off. He coughed every so often, his body jerking. He did feel better than before, but that didn’t mean he felt well. He didn’t have the energy to even pretend he felt well. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this sick in his whole life.

He was an idiot.

Why did he feel the need to prove himself? He’d been through hell with El Noche, his body beaten and poisoned. He knew no one would blame him if he’d taken extra time. He’d been warned that his lungs wouldn’t be back to normal for at least a month. And instead of taking it easy, he’d done the literal opposite.

His wandering mind drifted back to Mexico. Tied to a chair with no way to escape the awful feeling of breathing in but not getting what he needed. His lungs starved, his body already dying. The world spun out of control around him, his vision crackling and burning. Jack had come for him, freed him, stood him up only to catch him a second later. Mac didn’t realise he’d passed out until he came to in the back of an ambulance.

“Made it!”

Mac jolted out of the past, heavy eyes flying open. Jack glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You okay?” he asked.

Coughing hard, not sure he had enough air to spare on speaking, Mac nodded. Looking out the window, he saw yet another parking deck, this one presumably attached to an apartment building. When his chest settled, Mac forced himself out of the car, the weird, hazy not-sleep leaving him nauseous. His head was too light, his vision fuzzing out. His body swayed, his knees unlocking.

“Jack!” Riley cried out. “Grab him!”

The next thing he knew, Mac was on the ground. Sort of. He was actually cradled in Jack’s arms. Riley wasn’t there.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Jack said. “Riles went ahead to get the door open and get the bed ready. Think your blood pressure tanked there for a minute. You just focus on breathing, alright?”

Mac didn’t get a chance to speak. Another coughing fit overtook him, unspeakable nastiness erupting from the depths of his lungs. He vomited too, his whole body in revolt. By the time it was over, he was wheezing and gasping, heart pounding, panic flushing through him.

“Breathe,” Jack said. “You can do it. You gotta calm down for me.”

Closing his eyes, Mac tried to do what he was told. Slow it down. Don’t panic. Sure, breathing was way harder than usual right now, but he could breathe.

“There you go,” Jack said, voice soft. “Take it easy. I gotcha.”

“Sorry,” Mac wheezed.

“You ain’t gotta be sorry,” Jack said. “You’re sick. Really sick. No one’s mad at you. We just want you to rest.”

Rest. Right now, the thought of moving took Mac’s breath away. He didn’t dare open his eyes. If he did, all the tears would spill out. Being sick made him overly emotional. He allowed Jack to take his weight while he focused on breathing. Regular breaths. In and out. Calm and quiet.

Footsteps approached. Riley. “Good news is the apartment is right through the door,” she said. “He okay?”

Mac blinked his eyes open. “I’m okay,” he said.

Riley gave him a look. Yeah, he knew, he was the world’s worst liar.

“Think you can stand?” Jack asked.

Knowing there was no other way, Mac nodded. Between them, Riley and Jack got him upright. They took a slow walk to the apartment, none of which Mac took any notice of. Instead, he was led to a bedroom that was dark, cool and very welcoming. He’d never been happier to be dressed in pyjamas.

“Sleep well, Mac,” Riley said. She slipped out of the room.

Jack helped him into bed. Mac was asleep before his head hit the pillows.

“There we go.” Jack tucked Mac in, his hand reaching out to test his temperature. Warm but not burning. It’d have to do for now. So would the rasping, congested breathing. He could take some Tylenol and the rest of his meds when he woke up.

“Here,” Riley said. She held out a cool compress. “For that fever.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, placing it against Mac’s forehead.

Certain Mac would sleep for a while, Jack left him to rest, following Riley out of the room. She busied herself in the small kitchen, but when all the noise failed to result in drinks or food, Jack went over to her.

“You alright?” he asked.

She stopped still. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s just hard, you know? He’s really sick and it sucks.”

“He’s gonna get better,” Jack said. “It’s just gonna take a while.”

“I know,” Riley said. She shook herself. “We’re all stocked up, by the way. Looks like Thornton made sure we’d have everything we need.”

“Alright. Listen, you’re exhausted too,” Jack said. “Take a shower and get some sleep. We’ll take it in turns to watch out for Mac.”

He expected Riley to argue. Instead, she nodded and headed to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he heard her slide into the apartment’s second of three bedrooms. Standing and stretching, Jack moved around the apartment. It was spacious and airy, with plenty of light pouring in from the windows to his left. There was a balcony with seating too. Might make a nice breakfast spot, especially for Mac when he was well enough to get out of bed.

Jack went into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee maker. While it worked its magic, he stuck his head into Mac’s room. His friend slept on, propped up by extra pillows, exactly where he’d been left. The crackle and pop of his breathing filled the room. Knowing that would lead to only one thing later, Jack ducked back out and returned to the kitchen. Under the sink, he found exactly what he was looking for; a big ol’ bucket. He placed it at Mac’s bedside. Then, he took the dried out compress from Mac’s head, ran it under the cold tap in the bathroom, and placed it back on Mac’s head. Mac didn’t even stir, a testament to how drained he was. Jack silently willed him to do nothing but sleep for as long as possible. The more rest he got, the better it would be.

Sliding back out and pulling the door closed, Jack went back into the lounge and reached for his phone. Dialling fast, he moved it to his ear.

“Jack,” Thornton said, her voice as measured as ever. “Are you in the safehouse?”

“Hey Patty. Yeah, we’re in. It’s all good, thanks.”

“Mac?” she asked.

“Sick,” Jack said. “But he’s better than he was.” Barely. Honestly, Jack would prefer it if Mac was still in hospital, but Doctor Bevin seemed content to let him go. “We won’t be coming back for a while yet. I’m talking a week, minimum. It’s not safe for him to fly, and a car journey would be too much. He collapsed when we got here.”

“The safehouse is yours for the duration,” Thornton said. “Take good care of MacGyver. If you need medical assistance, call Doctor Bevin from the hospital. She’s vetted and she’s Phoenix approved.”

“Got it.”

The call ended just as the coffee maker announced it was done. Jack grabbed his drink, found a bag of chips in one of the cupboards, and settled himself at the breakfast bar to write his post-mission report that he had been putting off for days.

When Riley came back from her nap a few hours later, Jack took his own shower. He poked his head in to check on Mac and found him just as he’d been earlier; asleep and unmoved. Sliding back out, Jack headed to the third bedroom and settled into bed. Like any good soldier, he knew to sleep whenever he could. He trusted Riley to handle anything.

Jack was asleep two minutes later.

* * *

Riley made coffee and a sandwich. She was halfway through both when she heard the coughing. Abandoning her meal, she hurried into Mac’s room. She found him awake and struggling to sit up.

“Hey,” she said. “Let me help. What do you need?”

“Uh…” He blushed. “The, ah, the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Riley said. “Want Jack?”

“No!” Mac gasped. He cleared his throat. “No. I just need a sec. Wait for the room to stop…” He waved a hand around to suggest spinning.

“How about I help you stand and then you figure out all the bathroom stuff, and I help you get back to bed after that? Deal?”

Mac nodded.

Together, they got him into the bathroom. Riley made sure he didn’t lock the door, just in case. While he was in there, she quickly shifted his pillows and shook out the blanket. She checked that his inhalers and pills were on the bedside table and noticed a bucket on the floor. She had a bad feeling that was going to be necessary soon. She could hear Mac’s coughing picking up in the bathroom. It was amazing Jack hadn’t come running, but he was obviously exhausted and in need of sleep.

Riley returned to the bathroom, and when Mac staggered back out, she got him back to bed. She also put the bucket in front of him. He breathed hard, coughed more than any healthy human being ever would, and apologized profusely for how nasty it all was.

“Forget it,” Riley said, putting the bucket back on the floor when he finally finished. She’d have to thank Jack for putting that there, ready for this. “Turns out I have a stronger stomach than I thought.”

Mac responded with a wan smile. He was too breathless to speak more, his pale face flushed red and damp with sweat.

“Inhalers?” Riley asked.

Mac nodded. She handed them to him and he took his meds. Handing it back to Riley, he slumped against his pillows. “Thanks,” he wheezed. “Sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” she told him. “I’ll get you some water so you can take your pills too.” He had steroids and Tylenol to take. “Feel up to something to eat? There’s a whole lotta soup out there with your name on it.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Need anything else?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Mac said.

She got up, patted his leg and went to the kitchen. She poured a glass of water and took it back to the bedroom. Mac was already drifting off to sleep. She knew he needed to get something in him, give his body some energy to work with. She stayed until he’d downed at least a quarter of the glass. Then she went back to the kitchen, dumped the soup into a bowl, and microwaved it. She took it, and her half-eaten sandwich and coffee, back to Mac’s room. He was dozing again already, but she (verbally) poked and prodded him into eating some of the soup.

She also managed to catch the bowl when he started drifting back to sleep. “Okay, guess that was better than nothing.”

“Huh?” Mac’s eyes opened. He looked at her for about a second before his eyelids clamped down again.

“Shhh,” she said. “Just take your pills and then go back to sleep.”

He took the pills but didn’t follow the rest of her advice. He forced his eyes open again. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, promise,” she said. She forced a smile. “Just need you to get better.”

“Working on it.” His eyes closed again. This time, they stayed that way.

Riley leaned back. If anyone had told her a year ago she’d wind up nursing someone like this, she would’ve laughed at them. But she did care about Mac, a lot. He was a good friend who accepted her for who she was. Taking care of him was the least she could do. She knew he’d do the same for her if their roles were reversed.

Happy that he was sleeping peacefully, she cleaned up, washed out the bucket in the bathroom, refreshed Mac’s cold compress, and returned to the lounge. TV on, she logged into Netflix and picked up her _Fullmetal Alchemist_ rewatch. Jack strolled in four episodes later, looking refreshed and good to go.

“Mac okay?” he asked.

“Fed, watered and, uh, de-phlegmed?” Riley offered.

Jack chuckled. “Nice.” He dropped into the chair next to Riley. “What are you watching?”

And that was how Riley made an _FMA_ fan out of Jack Dalton.

* * *

It was a week before Mac was well enough to travel. Doctor Bevin still advised against flying, so Jack came up with another idea.

A Winnebago shaped idea.

It was a long journey back west, but at least they could take it slow and stop off at camp sites on the way. Mac, feeling better and more awake than before, kept up a steady stream of messages with Bozer on Jack’s phone. He still had no memory of what had happened to his phone. Mac had told Bozer most of the truth this time; his work trip had to be extended due to his illness. Bozer promised the house would be ready for him, and demanded food requests to make sure they were stocked up ready for Mac’s return.

When they finally reached LA three days later, Mac had never been so glad to see his own house. Bozer came out, looking worried. Mac stepped out, greeting his friend and accepting a careful hug.

“I made your bed and the fridge is full of everything you need,” Bozer said. “Man, you do not look well.”

“I feel a lot better,” Mac said. And he did. He really did. The fever was practically gone, the coughing wasn’t so intense now, and he spent more time awake.

Bozer ushered him inside. “You’re swaying.”

“I am not swaying!”

“You kinda are,” Riley called from behind.

Mac sighed.

“You need to rest. Wanna go straight to bed? You look like you need your bed,” Bozer said.

“Can I at least take a shower first?” Mac asked.

“Jack!” Bozer called. “Is Mac allowed to take a shower?”

Riley snorted.

Mac protested.

Jack nodded. “I guess so. But afterwards he’s either going straight to bed or on the couch.”

“Guys!” Mac protested. “I’m okay.”

Which would’ve sounded way more convincing if he hadn’t ended it with a barking round of coughs.

He disappeared into the shower before anyone could stop him. Ten minutes later, he dried off and found his favourite MIT sweats already waiting for him. Smiling at Bozer’s thoughtfulness, he dressed and headed out. He yawned, feeling a catch in his chest. He coughed, rubbing his ribs. His muscles were sore. He wanted to chill out on his couch, but he was exhausted. If he fell asleep there, he’d only have to get up and go to bed later.

He found the others out on the deck. He leaned on the doorframe. “Hey guys.”

“Mac!” Bozer bounced to his feet. “What do you need?”

“Bed,” Mac said.

Bozer hurried over to his side. “There’s a water bottle there ready for you, and I dug out an old airhorn you can use if you need anything. No need to get up, okay? You just stay there.”

“An airhorn?” Mac asked. He grinned. “Nice.”

“I’m gonna need that airhorn when you’re finished with it,” Jack called.

“Stay as long as you want,” Mac told Jack and Riley.

“We will,” Riley said, kicking back with a beer.

“And thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

“Any time,” Jack said. “You just keep getting better, alright?”

“And no more coming to work when you’re sick!” Riley added.

“Promise.” With that, Mac allowed Bozer to herd him to his bedroom.

“Man, I knew something wasn’t right with you before you went on this trip,” Bozer said.

Mac sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you or anyone.”

“That’s the problem,” Bozer said. “People want to worry about you because they care. You don’t have to do everything by yourself. And if something’s too much, you gotta say something.”

Mac stared at his friend. How could one person be so insightful?

Bozer cocked his head to one side. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. Just you’d think I might’ve figured it out by now,” Mac said.

“Figured what out?”

“That you’re always looking out for me,” Mac said.

“Damn right I am,” Bozer said. He walked around Mac and pushed him onwards. “Which is why you are going to bed, right now.”

Mac went into his room. The sight of his bed was sweet enough to bring tears to his eyes. Finally, it was over. He was home and he was recovering. He sank onto his comfortable mattress, unable to hold in a sigh of relief.

“Sleep well, Mac. And remember, airhorn.”

Mac spotted the airhorn next to his water bottle. “Airhorn, gotcha.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” Bozer said.

“It’s good to be here,” Mac said.

“Sleep well,” Bozer said.

Bozer closed the door. Mac pulled his comforter over him. He yawned, relishing the feel of his lungs filling. He never, ever wanted to go through something like this again. He closed his eyes, grateful to be home and grateful to have three amazing people looking out for him. He’d make it up to them. He’d… do something… he’d…

Never, ever go on a mission sick again.

Okay, good. What else?

He wouldn’t pretend he was okay when actually something was wrong…?

…Yeah, he could try.

More. He could make them something… a thank you present… maybe a…

Mac fell asleep before he came up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, in my headcanon, Riley's a massive anime fangirl and she likes the classics ;) 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for reading this <3 You're all so lovely!
> 
> I will be back asap :D Got another idea kicking around. Let's just say it's Houdini inspired...
> 
> Until then, feel free to swing by my [Tumblr](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/) :D

**Author's Note:**

> The abandoned mall was inspired by my absolutely favourite Proper People video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n67s2r6fVKg&t=1s Cannot recommend those guys enough. Such inspiring work!
> 
> Oh, and I totally borrowed a plot point from an episode of Psych for this fic XD
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Part 2 will be up Friday, and Part 3 on Sunday :) Until then, come over to [Tumblr](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/) and help me celebrate 100 fics!


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